


Silk

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fade to Black, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-07 22:09:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21225023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: Grace goes dress shopping and enlists Harold's help.





	Silk

**Author's Note:**

> I totally didn't do this idea justice. I spent more time on Google Images just gazing in awe at Carrie and dresses than I did writing. But my WIP mountain is huge, and if I post this maybe someone else can improve on it?

Grace jumped up from her computer in the study, unable to suppress a little squeal of raw excitement.

She gripped the doorframe to the bedroom and swung her head around it. “They’ve only gone and said yes!”

Facing the mirrored closet doors, Harold was in the midst of knotting his tie, slightly distracted. “Who’s that?”

“The curators at Blue Mountain. They want the largest rectangle and two of the little square canvasses. I’m going to be in a gallery for four whole weeks!“ She held up her fingers in a modified scout salute.

Harold’s face lit up. He turned and gave his full attention to her at once. “Grace, that’s wonderful!” He walked around the bed, holding his arms out.

“I know!” Grace stepped into the room and they met in the middle. She accepted her congratulatory kiss and glowed in his embrace. Sliding her fingers down his arms, she squeezed his elbows and added: “Opening night is Thursday. I’m going to be so busy getting everything ready on time. And I need a dress. Can you take the day off work and come shopping with me?”

Harold’s mouth dropped open. “Oh.” He looked doubtful, so she kissed him again before he could decide to say no. She didn’t release him until the press of his palms on her back was firm enough that she knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away.

“I have a meeting…” he said faintly. “But I suppose it can be rearranged.”

“Thank you!” One more quick peck, then she spun out of his reach. After two years of living together, Grace had a knack for getting her workaholic boyfriend to change his mind. He went into the study to call in, while she got changed to go out.

\---

Harold sat on a plush yellow ottoman at the furthest end of the corridor, outside the last shiny silver curtain in the row. Every few minutes Grace would emerge and give him a fashion show. More than once, in the instant when she pulled back the curtain, she’d catch him hastily tucking his phone out of sight, but while she was in front of him he gave honest feedback. Harold had an eye for these things, unlike any other guy she’d ever been with. Grace trusted his opinion. But she hadn’t yet found the right dress. She was looking for the one which would floor him, turn off his analytical brain and render him speechless. Once she had it, anyone who saw her at the exhibition would have to notice and want to talk to her. The right buyer could mean her work starting to reach a larger audience.

Her next candidate was knee-length, sleeveless, black silk printed with red, pink and gold roses. What distinguished it was the lack of a zipper - it laced up like a boot all the way along one side. There were two more curving rows of small metal eyelets at the front and between her shoulder blades. With some fiddling, she’d done the front and side, but the last few holes at the back eluded her.

Grace blew out a breath and rested her hands on her hips, turning side to side in front of the mirror inside the changing cubicle. The laces clung to her curves exactly as she’d tied them, weaving in and out of the rose petals. Behind the eyelets were wide flaps of dark fabric, so you couldn’t see skin behind the laces, but you could if you hooked a finger in and slid that protective silk layer out of the way.

Grace shivered a little, her hands twitching. She felt good, maybe too good. She didn’t want to be too self-conscious to do her job.

Instead of going out and walking her little turn up and down the corridor, as she had with the previous ten or so dresses, she quietly called Harold in to help her. It was mid-morning on a Tuesday, no-one else had walked into the changing area for at least an hour, apart from the store attendant offering assistance.

Soft, measured footsteps, and then Harold joined her in the cubicle, opening the curtain a minimal amount before tucking them in again. 

Grace presented her back to him. “Thread the last of the ribbon for me?”

She watched him as he turned to her, flexing her bare shoulders. Harold said nothing. He didn’t gawp, or make any sound of surprise or approval. His gaze traveled a short way before flicking back up to her face in the glass, and he did this several times, as though afraid to take in all of her body at once.

He visibly swallowed. Then his broad but nimble fingers took up the dangling ties and made quick work of the dress, finishing with a neat little bow. The laces weren’t tight enough to feel like a corset, which Grace had last worn twenty years ago when she used to volunteer with the historical reenactment society in college. She’d always loved dressing up, but the necessity of being dotted with paint most days meant she usually dressed down. She realized Harold hadn’t seen her in something quite like this before.

Harold kept his voice low. “Hair down, I should think.”

Grace’s hair was pinned up out of the way with a large butterfly clip. He removed it and let the red strands fall to her shoulders, delicately smoothing out the odd tangle. The reddest roses on the dress matched her hair. She knew just the pair of gold drop earrings and pale pink strappy heels in her wardrobe at home that would complete the outfit.

Harold ducked his head and kissed her shoulder. Grace leaned back against his warmth. The fingers of their right hands caught and tangled together. Harold’s left hand slipped around her waist and splayed across her abdomen, his thumb rubbing the silk across her skin.

In the mirror, Grace’s smile blossomed. She bit her lip as his hand drifted lower. 

Yep, this was definitely the dress.


End file.
